


It's just a haircut

by Laburnum26



Category: Inazuma Eleven
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, hairdresser au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 08:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15287469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laburnum26/pseuds/Laburnum26
Summary: Kidou, upon finally becoming coach of Teikoku under Fifth Sector's watchful gaze, decides to get rid of his dreadlocks properly, at a hairdresser's. However, he does not expect to meet his old rival there.





	It's just a haircut

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Es sólo un corte de cabello](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16151894) by [MaryTheAlien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryTheAlien/pseuds/MaryTheAlien)



Kidou has been standing in front of the building for a full ten minutes now. He was rocking back and forth on his feet as he tried to get himself to move.

“Come on, it’s just a haircut, don’t be so stupid!” he murmured to himself. Kidou has been wearing dreadlocks ever since he could remember. But today, since he had been chosen as the new coach of Teikoku, he decided to make some changes. He already put down the weird goggles in high school, and changed them for tinted glasses instead, but he didn’t feel that would be enough. He felt that making a major renewal would help him survive the things he was about to do. Because he was about to crush a major amount of teams as he pretended to obey Fifth Sector, and he couldn’t do it as his old self.

He sighed. “Don’t be such a damn coward!” he murmured. “It’s no big deal!” he finally stopped rocking back and forth and took a step forward. He opened the door of the hairdresser’s and stepped inside the building.

The first thing that hit him was the smell. The amount of hairspray in the air was almost suffocating and Kidou’s vision blurred for a minute even though he was wearing glasses. The place was big. He had decided to come here, because it was the nearest hairdresser’s to his house but now he started to regret his decision. Up until now, Kidou took care of his hair all alone. He never ever visited a hairdresser; he was just too proud to turn down a challenge like maintaining his dreadlocks.

But great causes require great sacrifices, Kidou thought as he looked around. It looked like Kidou arrived in the rush hours since all the seats were already taken except one. Beside it, two men were deeply engaged in a conversation, too deeply to notice the new customer entering. One was a short but thin man with stuck-up blonde hair and three piercings in his left ear. He was wearing an apron with the logo of the hairdresser’s company, so Kidou assumed he was one of the hairdressers working here. The other was probably the customer. He was clearly in need of a haircut, Kidou could tell, even though he was standing with his back to him. The man’s hair was just one hell of a mess. It was brown, thick, and long, reaching his shoulder, tied up in a loose ponytail in an attempt to regulate the thing that Kidou could only describe as a mane. However, it was useless because the man’s hair splayed in every direction of the compass. He was wearing a green and white sport jacket and looked a little bit scruffy, Kidou had to admit it.

Finally, the blond hairdresser noticed Kidou, and poked his partner on the shoulder. Kidou could hear him whispering something about “not being able to deal with another dreads today and taking a break” as he passed Kidou and left the shop.

How rude, Kidou thought as he watched the blond guy leave. He turned his gaze to the other man. Turquoise eyes met green glasses as the blood froze in Kidou’s veins. It can’t be, he thought as he observed the other man. Is it possible…?

“Fudou!” Kidou knew he sounded reproachful, but he was too shocked to care. He almost failed to recognize the man, even though he was standing right in front of him! Oh my, he has changed so much! And not just in the appearances. He wasn’t the mean kid he knew back then anymore. He has grown up, Kidou could tell. He didn’t hold his head low, like he used to, and his posture was much more upstanding. It radiated confidence, but this confidence was different from the one Kidou knew back in the FFI. This confidence wasn’t aggressive or condescending; it was more peaceful and silent. It was really unlike Fudou, but Kidou hasn’t seen him since the FFI and couldn’t blame him for changing. He was about to change, himself, after all.

“Well-well… If it isn’t Kidou-kun…” Fudou sneered. At least his smile was the same, Kidou thought relieved. But the tone of his voice… it didn’t have an edge anymore. It was more like he was just simply teasing and not insulting. “I see somebody had knocked some sense into you, and you ditched that horrible cape of yours.”

Kidou shrugged. “Things happen,” he said, which he regretted immediately, because he was sounding defensive. Damn, he doesn’t have to be defensive; he does whatever he wants with his life! Kidou felt his nerves tensing in his head already.

That’s it, Kidou realized. Almost ten years have passed, they both became mature adults (at least that’s what Kidou hoped), and Fudou could still make him angry in the first five minutes of a conversation. Kidou felt annoyance rising in him.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” he asked. Kidou wasn’t prepared for Fudou’s appearance here. He just simply wanted to get rid of his dreadlocks in peace, mourning them quietly!

“Umm… Working?” Fudou raised a brow, and Kidou felt the air escape his lungs quickly.

“You are a hairdresser?” Kidou asked then yet again realized that it was a stupid thing to say.

“Yeah, I believe that’s what you can work here,” Fudou said. “And it looks like, you’re gonna be my client today,” Fudou smirked unbelievingly. “Whether you like it or not,” he added as he saw the other’s expression fall.

Kidou quickly took a deep breath and regained his composure. It’s no big deal, he told himself; it’s just a haircut. It’s not like he had treasured his hair so much that it took Sakuma three entire days to convince him to let a hairdresser touch his hair! Well, it wasn’t exactly three days just two and a half… Okay, who is he trying to fool? Sakuma had to threaten him with burning his coach license just to get him to find a barber shop. However, he was now mentally prepared to let a professional touch his hair, but Fudou?! That was something different. That was something akin to a nightmare; a nightmare he never dreaded to imagine.

“So, what can I do for you?” Fudou’s voice quickly dragged Kidou back to reality. He lifted his gaze towards Fudou whose expression was quite calm now, almost jovial. Looks like Fudou got over meeting Kidou again way faster than Kidou himself.

There was a minute silence as Kidou considered his options. One: he turns around quickly and leaves the shop before the other can say another damned word. That would work, but it would cost his dignity. Two: he apologises and with a fake excuse, he leaves the shop. But then, he would be nowhere with getting his hair done, and the sane part of Kidou told him that he had to do this in order to be mentally prepared for Fifth Sector. Three: he accepts that karma somehow had found him and, well, he lets Fudou do his hair.

He sighed and chose the third option.

“I’m here because I want to get rid of my dreadlocks,” Kidou said. That’s it. It’s out. It wasn’t as hard as he had expected but still, it made him uncomfortable.

Fudou stared at him for a brief moment, eyes wide open as his brain processed the sentence. Then he shot a knowing smirk at Kidou.

“Ha-ha. Very funny but I won’t fall for it. I get it - this was because of me calling your cape horrible. I thought you are smarter than to pull such a lame prank on me Kidou-kun. However, I have to admit that the image of you as a skinhead with those big ass glasses of yours…”

“I am serious,” Kidou said nonchalantly causing Fudou to stop in mid-sentence.

“What? You want to shave your head?” Fudou asked shocked.

“Of course not,” Kidou rolled his eyes behind his glasses. “I want to de-dread my locks. I want to get rid of them,” Kidou’s voice was so determined and emotionless, that Fudou held back whatever he just wanted to say and glanced at the clock on the wall instead.

“It will be a long process. I have to wash your hair. Then I have to pick apart each dreadlock one by one,” Fudou said in a calm voice. “And we’re closing in two hours. You probably have to come back tomorrow too. And the day after,” he smirked. “Are you sure you can take that risk? You’ll be hanging around with half untangled dreads for a time. You’ll look ridiculous,” Fudou stopped for a moment only to mimic a thinking expression. “But you’re probably used to that since you wore goggles and a cape to school.”

Kidou didn’t even flinch at the remark. Actually, he felt a little bit relieved. Sarcastic and mean Fudou was something he could handle. But the polite and good-natured Fudou? He didn’t have a single clue what to do with that.

“I’m fine with that,” Kidou finally said.

Fudou gestured toward the hair washer seat. “Then take a seat, Kidou-kun. I’m gonna first wash your hair.”

Kidou slowly, as if he was going to his own execution, moved towards the seat with the sink. He sat down, putting his head in the basin while Fudou positioned himself at the other end of the wash-bowl.

Then nothing happened for a solid minute.

“You know,” Fudou started speaking finally with playfulness in his tone. “If you want me to wash your hair, you have to take off the glasses first.”

Kidou gulped and felt the heat rising to his face. He has got used to his glasses so much that he actually forgot he was wearing them. Without a word, he reached to his face and took off his glasses, sliding them into one of the pockets of his suit.

Fudou opened the tap and started washing Kidou’s hair. As soon as his hands touched the dark blond dreadlocks, Kidou shifted in the seat. Fudou couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” the crimson eyes almost burnt a hole in Fudou’s.

“Nothing,” Fudou said, a sly grin spreading across his face. “I just remembered the day when Endou once hugged you, during that match. And you kicked him in the stomach in response.”

Kidou wasn’t happy that Fudou brought back such an embarrassing memory. It happened back in the FFI, after a training match with some kind of team. They won with Kidou’s shot, and Endou was so overexcited that he hugged Kidou in his happiness. Kidou, however, wasn’t prepared for such a sudden show of affection even though at that time he was already getting used to Endou jumping on him. He wasn’t used to people touching him so he did what his first instinct and self-defence knowledge told him. Kidou had never seen Coach Kudou as mad as that day. He avoided Endou for three days after the incident, even though Endou reassured him that everything was fine.

“You haven’t changed much,” Fudou’s quizzical voice once again dragged him back from his memories.

“I can’t say the same to you, though,” Kidou murmured under his breath. He fought the urge to get up from this damned seat and just run away from this whole embarrassing situation he had got himself into.

“Yeah. You know, that’s life,” Fudou shrugged in response. “People change.”

“But that much?” Kidou let the sentence slip out of his mouth without thinking it over. “I mean…” he tried to correct himself. Fudou and him, they had their conflicts and affronts but Kidou tried to remain polite nevertheless. “From playing soccer… to being a hairdresser? How does one do that?”

“That’s a very interesting question, Kidou-kun,” Fudou’s smile was unreadable. Kidou decided not to push the topic.

“But don’t you miss it?” Kidou realized that talking to Fudou was a good distraction from the fact that somebody was actually touching his hair.

“Well, after high school, I played for the national team for two years. Wasn’t that big of an adventure... So I decided to look for something else. Also, I was running low on money, so I had to find a job quickly. The coach of the team, who was a part-time manager of a saloon, suggested a great school where I can learn the bases of hairdressing. He said that after I take the class he would hire me at his shop. At first, I laughed in his face. Like, me as a hairdresser? Not even in your wildest dreams, man, I said. But…” here his voice seemed to hesitate for minute. “Circumstances changed. So I took the course, and I started working at the coach’s barber shop. That’s how it started,” Fudou smiled. “But don’t worry; I still play a little bit of soccer. I go to the riverbank every now and then and play football with the brats.”

Now it was Kidou’s turn to chuckle.

“What?” Fudou asked confused.

“You and kids? Really?” Kidou asked incredulously. “You changed much more than I thought,” he murmured to himself.

“Well, they aren’t as bad as you think. They can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, but in general they’re bearable. When they listen to me at least,” Fudou smirked then reached for a towel on a shelf near the wall and quickly wrapped Kidou’s locks in it. “Done,” he announced. Kidou got up from the seat as fast as if someone had said _Kageyama_. They moved to the seat in front of the mirror. Kidou sat down and glared at his reflection. He watched as his wet locks fell onto his shoulders as Fudou removed the towel from his head.

“There,” Fudou said. “Wanna say goodbye to them before I start?” he asked. Although his tone was mocking, Kidou almost replied with a yes. But he held his tongue and shook his head instead, glaring straight at his reflection as his wet locks swung around from the motion. He will not break. Though every fibre in his body told him to stand up and just walk away, let this stupid idea go, there was no way of turning back now.

“So first, I’m gonna pick apart all your locks, so I can detangle them,” Fudou announced. Kidou said nothing. Why was Fudou telling him this? He doesn’t have to comment on every step he’s doing! It was like he sensed Kidou’s discomfort, and he told him this just to reassure him. Kidou felt dread flowing through his veins as the realization hit him; Fudou thought that he needed reassurance! Like he would be that weak! Like he was afraid to have his damn hair cut! 

“It might hurt a little,” Fudou said calmly, but somehow his tone hid some mockery. Or maybe Kidou just imagined it. Kidou sneered in response and suppressed the urge to stand up and just scream in Fudou’s face that he shouldn’t underestimate him. Fudou furrowed his brows, not understanding the sudden change of mood, but shrugged and started to pick apart the dark blond hair.

As Kidou expected, he didn’t feel anything. Why would Fudou say such things, when they both knew that Kidou had experienced much more…

“Oi!” Kidou yelped as he subconsciously reached for his head to stop the throbbing pain in his skull. Only to meet Fudou’s hands tangled in his hair trying to separate two locks at their beginning. Fudou’s skin was cold to Kidou’s warm touch; still he dragged his hand away as if he had touched fire.

“I warned ya,” Fudou grinned at Kidou’s reflection, ignoring his widening eyes. Kidou pressed his lips together tightly.

“You know, you could be more careful,” he mumbled, fixing his gaze on the hair products on the table in front of him.

“I try my best,” Fudou huffed. “Maybe if you took better care of your hair, it wouldn’t be so tangled. Look, these two locks are basically grown together,” he lifted up a chunk of Kidou’s hair with a bemused expression on his face. Kidou glanced at it in the mirror, furrowing his brows.

“These are dreadlocks. They are supposed to be tangled,” Kidou sighed, annoyed, finally regaining his calm composure again.

“But this much?” Fudou raised a brow, and Kidou shrugged.

“How would I know? You are the hairdresser. Or at least you claim yourself to be one.”

“It was a rhetorical question,” Fudou rolled his eyes. “You weren’t supposed to the answer that. But here’s another that you can answer: What’s with this new style of yours? No more goggles? No more capes? What happened to you? You almost look like a decent man,” he chuckled and started working on another couple of dreadlocks.

Kidou felt the heat rushing to his face. He just shrugged, trying to look like he wasn’t affected by Fudou’s words.

“You know, as you said. People change,” he replied. “I can also ask you the same thing, by the way. Won’t you get fired by wearing such…” Kidou was looking for the word. “Sleazy clothes? I mean… everyone else is wearing that black apron. If you work here, you should wear that, right?” he finally asked the thing that was bothering him since he had found out that Fudou was working here.

Fudou chuckled. “Ah, Kidou-kun. Always spotting the details, aren’t you? Well, you know… I’m not a big fan of rules,” he said then leaned closer to Kidou’s ear so that their faces were in line. He looked at their reflection and turned his voice down, as if he was sharing a secret with him. “Besides, no one would ever dare to complain about the boss’s clothes. Well, not unless they want to get fired,” Fudou snickered with a playful light in his eyes.

Kidou’s crimson eyes went wide.

“You- You own this place?!” he stammered.

“Indeed I do,” Fudou straightened himself. “Don’t look so surprised, Kidou-kun,” he let out a slightly nervous laugh.

“I’m not,” Kidou tried to defend himself. “It’s just that I’d never thought that a guy like you…” Kidou stopped in mid-sentence as he mentally kicked himself in the stomach. What’s with him today? He can’t even manage his own words now?!

“Yes?!” Fudou’s voice promised nothing good. “What’s with a guy like me?” he said in a calm tone which made Kidou’s stomach tie in a knot. Fudou stared in the reflection-Kidou’s eyes, his own flickering with anger. Real anger. Not the usual annoyance Fudou used to get when someone was insulting him, but real hurt and fury. Kidou thanked God for being in a public place and not having to experience Fudou’s true wrath.

“Nothing,” Kidou answered, wishing that the floor would just open, so he could disappear.

“Tch… Thought so,” Fudou said as he continued to separate Kidou’s locks. Silence fell on them as Fudou worked, and Kidou stared at the table, determined not to look at him.

Ten minutes passed in frosty quiet when Fudou finally let go of Kidou’s hair and reached for a drawer in the table. He dug through a bunch of combs and pins until he found what he was looking for. He lifted the tool in silence as Kidou looked at it too and his eyes grew wide. Well, this tool was quite an unusual one. It had a wooden handle and a rather long and thick needle on top of it. It reminded Kidou of some kind of mediaeval torturing equipment.

He watched in shock as Fudou neared the weird screwdriver to his skull. For a brief moment, a thought flashed through his mind; that Fudou might want to crack his skull open, just for the pure sake of revenge. However irrational it sounded, he couldn’t help but flinch in his seat, which caused the hairdresser to start laughing.

Kidou gritted his teeth in exasperation. Great, he just gave Fudou another thing to tease him about! Today really wasn’t Kidou’s day, he had to admit it. His composure shattered into pieces the moment he saw Fudou, and no matter how desperately he tried to reclaim it through this nightmare of a time, he could only collect some pieces. The minute he thought that his walls were back, Fudou broke them down again.

“Don’t look so frightened Kidou-kun,” Fudou was almost giggling now, amusement clear in his voice. “It’s just a needle.”

Kidou didn’t answer, just bit his tongue and sent a murderous glare to the mirror.

“I know,” he said but it was a failed attempt at reserving his grace.

“Oh man,” Fudou chuckled. “I wish I had a camera with me. Your face was priceless!”

Kidou only huffed in response.

“Don’t be so stiff, Kidou-kun,” Fudou drawled as he divided Kidou’s locks in to two parts horizontally. He quickly put the upper half in a loose bun and started to work on one of Kidou’s tangled locks in the down part with the weird needle. Kidou didn’t answer just stared at his reflection, lips pressed together, determined to preserve whatever was left of his dignity. If it meant that he was going to be sitting mutely in a hairdresser’s chair for the remaining hours then so be it! Fudou worked in silence and as quickly as he could. Time passed slowly, without either of the two speaking a single word. Kidou’s mind started to slip slowly back to his thoughts about the tactics of Teikoku for the first match. This match was going to be his debut, so he had to be prepared. He had to play any case of scenario, all the possible orders Fifth Sector could give them. He had to be ready for anything regardless of winning or losing. Seeds aren’t trustworthy and, at the moment, there are a lot of them in Teikoku’s team. He has to be able to think quickly and to act fast because one single mistake can cause a huge…

Fudou cleared his throat behind Kidou and he jumped in his seat in surprise. This time Fudou didn’t make any comment on it.

“What’s with the face?” he asked instead, seemingly deep in his work. Kidou raised a brow in response.

Fudou sighed as if it would physically pain him to say the following words. “What’s troubling you?”

“Nothing,”

“Don’t tell me you actually tried it,” Fudou said unbelievably.

“Tried what?” Kidou asked back with a small frown.

“Tch… You actually tried to lie to _me_?” Fudou said with a small huff. “You can’t fool me, Kidou-kun, y’know.”

“It’s none of your business,” Kidou gritted his teeth.

“Okay - okay…” Fudou held up both of his hands in surrender (with the needle in one of them which automatically caused Kidou to flinch a little). “As the customer wishes…” he added under his breath, but Kidou didn’t even bother to reply.

“Then tell me instead what you’ve been doing these past years,” Fudou asked.

“Why so interested?” Kidou asked back with a suspicious expression.

“Just trying to be a proper hairdresser,” Fudou shrugged. “C’mon, tell me all the juicy gossip!” he asked in a high-pitched tone, his voice mocking - probably - one of his colleagues.

Kidou couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at Fudou’s response.

“What? Did I hear it right? The great Kidou Yuuto just laughed?” Fudou asked with a shocked gasp.

“Very funny…” the blond murmured but couldn’t stop a small blush creeping on his face.

“So?” Fudou asked, his gaze fixed on his work once again.

“You just won’t give up, will you?” Kidou sighed.

“Not a chance,” Fudou said smugly.

“Fine…” Kidou hesitated a bit before the answer. “I’m a coach,” the former game maker said reluctantly. “At Teikoku,” he added.

“A coach?” Fudou asked surprised. “Suits you damn enough,” he said finally after pondering on Kidou’s answer for a while.

“Really? You think?” Kidou asked surprised at Fudou’s reaction.

“Yeah. Bossing ‘round is kinda your thing, right?” he replied with a sly grin on his face. Kidou huffed but didn’t deny it.

“It’s reversed though; now I’m the one who is being bossed around…” he said bitterly, referring to the new soccer system which determined the winner in advance of the match.

“Tell me about it,” Fudou shook his head disapprovingly. “That Gouenji Shuuya made it quiet far, didn’t he? It was always obvious that the kid is going to be famous one day but becoming a soccer tyrant? That’s something even I didn’t see coming.”

Kidou’s eyes widened, and he couldn’t help but turn his head around to look Fudou in the eye. Half-dried locks flew in the air at the movement, and Fudou tried to drag the metal needle away from Kidou’s head as fast as possible. Good thing his reflexes were the same as at the age of 14.

“You know?” Kidou asked, obviously shocked. The identity of the Holy Emperor was mostly unknown to the public, even though Gouenji tried very little to hide his appearance.

“C’mon Kidou-kun, give me some credit,” Fudou smiled slightly. “I’m a hobo but I’m not blind.”

Right. Kidou has yet again underestimated Fudou’s capabilities. Or overestimated Gouenji’s stealth abilities. That was the moment when Kidou realised that maybe he should tell Fudou about his doubts. Fudou wasn’t as understanding and supportive as Sakuma was; nor he had that rough will-knock-the-sense-into-you approach to things as Gouenji had, but maybe it was the thing he actually needed at the moment. He didn’t need white lies to comfort him; he wanted the truth but he preferred not to get hurt during the process. And if anything, his fellow game maker was brutally honest.

“You’re right,” he murmured almost inaudibly. He gulped as he took a deep breath. He was clearly struggling with words, and Fudou raised a brow at his behaviour in a ‘this is going to be interesting’ manner.

“Kageyama,” Kidou said, and the world fell silent around them. Fudou didn’t reply, he just patiently waited for Kidou to elaborate on his train of thoughts. “I’m Kageyama.”

“No? I’m pretty sure you are Kidou Yuuto…” Fudou grinned, but Kidou took no notice of it. He turned his head back to the mirror and stared at his reflection as if he was seeing it for the first time in his life. Fudou’s smile melted from his face as he resumed his work on the detangling in a quiet but precise manner.

“I’m just like him,” then he furrowed his brows and stared forward intently as if he was challenging his own image in the mirror to contradict him. “I… I’m weak,” he whispered and hung his head low.

“I-I’m disgusting. I let Fifth Sector determine Teikoku’s matches, because I’m scared. I-I… came here today to get rid of my dreads. To get rid of my previous self. To… transform into some sort of villain. Into someone like Kageyama. And-and it is going quite easily so far. Too easily, I slip in to the mask of the bad guy even though everything in my damn body tells me that what Fifth Sector is doing is wrong. And I want to fight! Stand up and tell Gouenji that he is being fed with lies. But if I rebel, I’ll get caught, and the kids won’t be able to play without me, and it’s much easier to lie low and follow orders.  If I obey, they will let me be, and I can organise even if just secretly…” Kidou stopped there as if he had just realised that he had said too much. He didn’t have to say anything more though. Fudou’s eyes flashed as the penny dropped. He leaned closer to Kidou, his lips almost brushing his ear.

“Do you mean… you’re organising a rebellion?” he whispered. Kidou felt his face heating up and scoffed.

“You can… put it that way,” he breathed.

“What other ways are there to call a rebellion?” Fudou laughed, and the hair on the back of Kidou’s neck stood up.

“Justice for soccer?” Kidou tried but he wished Fudou would get out of his face.

“Right,” Fudou drawled and finally straightened himself. Kidou let and inaudible sigh escape his lips. “Is that what’s going to be on your banners? Justice for soccer?” Kidou didn’t reply. Now that he didn’t have to focus on Fudou, he could think about his next steps again.

“You know,” Fudou started to say but immediately saw that the genius was too consumed in his thoughts again, glaring at the mirror, his teeth worrying over his bottom lip.

“Fuck Kageyama,” Fudou decided to say instead. His voice made Kidou flinch and he looked up at the hairdersser. “He was a bastard. His goals will never justify what he had done. Never,” Kidou shut his eyes, and felt a blush creeping up on his cheeks but now from shame.

“But you’re not Kageyama,” Fudou stated firmly. “And in Kageyama’s time soccer matches weren’t determined by some bossy-ass authority and by a Holy Emperor. And Kageyama would never ever have had the guts to rebel against anything. If he were still alive, he would much more likely be sitting in a chair at Fifth Sector, hell, he may even be the Holy Emperor himself. So don’t think so highly of yourself and don’t think you can call yourself a villain just by being a bit sneaky every now and then,” Fudou scoffed with fire in his eyes. “You tried it once, but it didn’t work for you, remember?”

Kidou pondered over Fudou’s words and had to admit (much to his dismay) that he was right. Obeying Fifth Sector _while_ trying to save the world of soccer wasn’t the most villainous thing to do. It was not nice, taking in Seeds and crushing opponents, but it was a necessary bad. And Kidou wasn’t a child anymore. He should know better that the world wasn’t just black or white.  And Kidou was fighting the only way he could - with his brain and tactics. He sighed as he realized that he might have overthought his problem. Kidou was relieved that yet again his instincts were correct, and Fudou’s words were exactly what he needed.

“Hmph,” Fudou said triumphantly as he saw Kidou’s face suddenly relax. “I’m taking five, wanna go outside?” he asked then and jabbed his thumb in the direction of the door. Kidou was thankful for the offer. He nodded and got up from his seat. He stared at his reflection for a minute and wondered how ridiculous he looked. The upper part of his hair was tied up in a bun while the lower half was already detangled thanks to Fudou’s fast fingers (and to that dreadful medieval torturing equipment) and was cascading onto his shoulders in ragged waves. He put his tinted glasses back on and by the time he looked away, Fudou was already standing outside. He was still visible through the glass door, in the midst of lighting a cigarette. When had Fudou started to smoke? Kidou followed him outside, his eyebrows now knitted together in a reproachful frown. When he stepped out of the door he went and stood beside Fudou who was slouched against a nearby wall, puffing peacefully.

“Since when?” Kidou’s question shot through the noise of the city and he nodded towards the cigarette between Fudou’s fingers.

“High school,” Fudou shrugged nonchalantly. “Not like it’s your business though,” he huffed right after. Kidou sighed and rubbed the bridge if his nose, irritated.

“You’re a sportsman, Fudou,” he said his voice reprimanding.

“Hah, not anymore Kidou-kun,” Fudou laughed bitterly. “The glorious days have long passed,” he sighed and took a long draw from his cigarette and exhaled. The smoke burnt Kidou’s eyes despite the glasses, and he tried hard to fight the urge to take the cigarette out of Fudou’s hands and stub it. But his last sentence made Kidou wonder. Fudou was all banter and leers but was he actually alright? At that moment, Kidou felt like something was off. He couldn’t explain why, it was just his guts telling him.

“Erhm… and what about you, Fudou…” Kidou started voicing his concerns. “Are you…” he was searching for the words, and Fudou cocked an eyebrow in response “…well?”. Even though he was stammering, his voice and posture radiated seriousness which made Fudou gulp in exasperation.

“Hah,” Fudou laughed but his smile was strained. “Never better,” he said, but his reply only earned another pair of creased brows and an analytical grimace. “Aw, look at you, being so worried about me! This is so flattering!” Fudou cooed. “But be careful, Kidou-kun, one might think that you actually care about me,” he chuckled, but the sound rang hollowly.

“I do care about you,” there was no hesitation is Kidou’s voice this time. “Whatever happened in the past, it’s in the past. You are a former teammate of mine, and if you need help in any ways I am glad to help you out.”

“Yeah, I bet. The Great Kidou Yuuto coming to the rescue of The Poor Fudou Akio… that’s a scenario you’d love,” Fudou spat and slammed the cigarette butt in to the concrete in frustration. He stepped on it as he was clearly trying to control the anger in his voice. “I’m a big boy, Kidou-kun. I can take care of myself,” he said, but Kidou knew better than that to believe it.

“So it’s not about you?” he asked ignoring Fudou’s venomous words.

“What makes you think that?” Fudou asked, threat clear in his voice. Kidou (even if accidentally so) managed to be dead on the subject. He knew that by the way Fudou reacted, the way suddenly all his walls started to close in. Kidou gritted his teeth but didn’t push the topic. So they stood there, listening to the loud traffic of the city, neither of them daring to move. Waiting for the other to react.

After a couple of minutes, Fudou sighed frustrated and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s my mom. I hope you’re happy now,” he groaned and turned away from Kidou, starting to walk back to the shop. But Kidou was faster and grabbed his arm. Fudou looked at Kidou who didn’t say a word, just urged him with the motion of his head to continue. Fudou tore his arm away from Kidou’s grip and huffed in annoyance.

“You just won’t let it go, will ya?” he asked. The faintest of smiles appeared on Kidou’s lips as he remembered that he had said the same thing just not long ago and shook his head.

 “Fine. My mom…” Fudou started not even daring to look at Kidou. “isn’t well. She has… some problems,” here, Fudou lifted up his fist, extended his thumb and little finger, and made a tilting movement, signalling the motion of drinking. “And I can’t take care of her,” he said bluntly. “This business is only a mediocre sized one here. I transfer all my extra money, hell even my money that I would usually spend on comfort stuff, to her but what can I do if she drinks it all?” he growled in irritation. “I don’t know… something must have broken in her, maybe me not making it into the spotlight or my father’s business - that old broken record! - or I don’t know what but she has just… lost herself in general. And I wanna help her. I really do. But I have a business to take care of, a home to take care of, and I try and I try but if my mother doesn’t want to be clean then I can’t force her! Every time, she says ‘Akio, I do not have a drinking problem. I know my limits. Don’t take this away from me as well.’ See what she did there?! She even guilt tripped me! And I just… Argh!” Fudou kicked the wall with full force and watched as a few pieces of daub fell off from it.

Kidou stared at Fudou sympathetically. He knew the feeling of being unable to help someone, to realise that someone you know is not the same anymore, and you can do absolutely nothing to change them back. He has seen it all. Especially when he encountered Sakuma and Genda at Shin Teikoku, but he decided it was wiser not to bring up this subject. After all, he said himself: what is in the past is in the past.

Kidou wasn’t good with words. Especially if these words were the comforting type, and so he stood there speechless not knowing how to convey his feelings without making Fudou feel that he is being pitied. He wanted Fudou to know that he understood, more than he would ever know. So he did what he was the best at: organising. He took out his phone from one of the pockets of his suit. But he couldn’t even unlock his screen when a hand was placed on his arm in a tight grip.

“I. Don’t. Want. Your. Money,” Fudou hissed through gritted teeth and Kidou could really feel the murderous intent in his words. Kidou made a smug grimace, tore his arm out of Fudou’s grip and walked a couple of meters away, where he dialled a number. He spoke in a low voice, his words blurring into an incomprehensible murmur while Fudou was still standing at the entrance of the shop, fuming. When Kidou finished his call and walked back to Fudou, the former punk looked like he was about a millisecond away from jumping at Kidou’s throat.

“No,” he said crossing his arms in front of his chest, trying to contain himself.

“So you don’t want me to pay you?” a blond eyebrow crept up on Kidou’s forehead. Fudou’s cold expression fell as he furrowed his brows in concentraition.

“What do you mean?” the brunette asked, his voice filled with suspicion. Kidou didn’t reply, just handed his phone to him. Fudou stared at the screen as he started reading the article.

“The Azure Sanctuary? What the hell is this?” he huffed. He quickly skimmed through the article, scrolling as his eyes grew wider and wider with every newly gathered information on the institution.

“Bloody hell, this is one nursing home for sure!”

“I know a guy there who owes me a favour,” Kidou shrugged. “They are a facility specialised in helping elderly people with drinking problems. They have counselling twice a week, a gym, a pool, a lot of activities and a handful of qualified psychologists to get people back to their feet. I only managed to arrange a semester there for your mom but I guess it’s better than nothing. You’ll have  half a year where your mother won’t be drinking your money, and you can make savings and then you can pay the next semester. Also, since you have a kick against accepting help from other people, let’s just say that it’s an act in exchange for my hair. And well… for the gossip,” the half-dreadlocked midfielder got himself to say the words, referring to Fudou listening his problems earlier.

Fudou stood there very still, his expression completely frozen as he handed Kidou’s phone back to him. He then took a deep breath as if he was trying to calm a storm inside him by the sheer power of exhaling. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak.

“But what about the other part of your hair?” he cocked an eyebrow. “You should have waited for me to finish your coiffure first before paying,” the former punk smirked.  Kidou shrugged nonchalantly.

“I think I prefer it this way. I don’t have to transform _completely_ into a bad guy,” he smiled weakly and pointed towards the bun of dreadlocks on the top of his head. “An old reminder,” then he pinched a chunk of detangled hair and lifted it up slightly. “And a new start.”

Fudou smiled understandingly then his face broke into a wide grin.

“You look ridiculous though,” the brunette snickered.

“I know,” Kidou smirked. “But after all, you said it yourself; ridiculous is part of my image.

Fudou suddenly averted his gaze towards the concrete.

“Bloody freakin’ Azure Sanctuary, huh?” he mumbled. “They even have a freakin’ gym and swimming pool! I could bloody kiss you now, Kidou Yuuto…” he murmured almost inaudibly. Too bad that Kidou never had problems with his ears.

“A simple thank you will suffice,” he replied but couldn’t stop a blush turning his face all red.

But suddenly Fudou was in his personal space, leaning towards him. Kidou took a step back but his back hit the wall immediately.

“I’d rather die than say thank you to an adversary like you,” the brunette whispered with that mischievous gleam in his eyes. A couple of seconds passed then in shocked silence as if Fudou was waiting for Kidou to bolt and make a run for it. But the self-proclaimed genius just stood there, shell-shocked, pupils widening. Fudou took this as encouragement and captured the former midfielder’s lips with his own. Kidou’s surprised yelp was muffled as their mouths connected. But soon enough and to his surprise Kidou found himself melting into the kiss and responding to it just as eagerly as Fudou did. When their lips finally parted, they stared at each for seconds what felt like eternity. Finally, Fudou cleared his throat and cocky grin spread across his face, the kind that suggested that he had found another way to get on Kidou’s nerves.

“So? Your place or mine?” the question earned him a strong shove on the shoulders. As Fudou was stumbling backwards, trying to keep his balance, Kidou gathered what little was left of his sanity and made his way past Fudou. The intention of leaving was clearly visible in his steps.

“So, I guess I’ll see you around then?” the amusement was clear in the former punk’s voice as he shouted after him. Kidou didn’t respond. He didn’t even stop, just lifted a hand and waved in a dismissive manner as he rounded the corner and disappeared from Fudou’s line of sight. He didn’t have to look back to know that the punk was smirking widely, with that sharp grin of his.

* * *

 

Little did Kidou know that the next day Sakuma would have a mental breakdown at the sight of his new _coiffure_. And while Sakuma kept on sputtering different sentences altering between the shocked “All that convincing and threats, and your hair just became worse!” and the exasperated “I don’t know why I even thought that for once, you would have a normal haircut!” Kidou just smiled slightly with content. Now, he was ready for battle, and Fifth Sector could be damn sure that this rebellion was going to be one that they would never forget.


End file.
